An Awkward Revolutionary - 5. Chapter V

"Let me tell you something of my own history," Daniil said. "I cannot say if it was my father's position, being a physician and in the army, or it was his character, perhaps both, he made interesting acquaintances. One such was Vasily Somov, a man of my father's age who had travelled far and wide, and explored Asia as far as China. The tales of his journeys captivated, but I always thought he did not reveal everything he had discovered."

Aleksander sat still, listening intently.

"This man both fascinated and attracted me, I wanted to know more, to undertake such adventures for myself. Remember I was in my fourteenth year, still a boy, but yearning to grow up as fast as I could. Vasily stayed a week with us that Spring and regaled us with his stories each night, and more, because my father was called away one day and I spent that time in the company of Vasily Somov.

"He treated me not so much as a young boy, but with a degree of maturity which I am not certain I merited, yet I appreciated it. I felt grown up in his company. Vasily was poetic in his language and when he was telling me about visiting a temple in India and what he had found there, he suddenly stopped his tale and turned to me smiling. He said that I was like the buds on the cherry trees which in a few weeks, or less, would bloom and open to reveal the most wonderful flowers, decorating the Spring with their beauty and intoxicating scent. One would look and perhaps venture to pick a flower and breathe in its perfume, if it was within reach.

I was completely charmed by Vasily and captivated by his stories, sad when he had to leave, but he promised, if my father agreed, I might visit him when he returned at the end of summer."

"And did you?"

"Yes, indeed. It was a revelation, a real incredible experience, but not a story I would share with just anyone."

Daniil's eyes seemed to pierce into Aleksander with an intense glare.

"I would love to hear what happened," he was at once excited and intrigued. "You know you can trust me."

"First let me fetch something from my room."

Daniil left quickly, but was not gone long. When he returned, he held a folded piece of paper in his hand.

Aleksander looked at this, "Is it a sketch?" he asked, thinking it must be.

Daniil handed it to Aleksander. "It is. It is also revealing, by its nature and the subject."

Aleksander glanced up at his companion before unfolding the paper. What was revealed both took him aback and further excited him. The sketch was of two youths, the subject not ostensibly different from Daniil's other sketch from this morning, except it was, very different. The one youth was lounging, leaning forward slightly looking intently at his friend. This other lad was seated his head bent towards the first boy's erection, his mouth slightly open and his lips touching the boy's cock. There was no doubting the drawing was erotic in nature.

"I see I have not made you flee, neither angry nor shocked, perhaps a little disquieted?"

Aleksander did not know what to say, he wanted to speak, but words failed him. He stared at the picture, his mouth slightly open.

"Shall I continue? Or would you prefer I leave?"

He found his voice at last, "No, stay, please... And yes, continue. I am listening." Aleksander adjusted himself in his seat and lent towards his companion as if they were in a conspiratorial conversation discussing high treason or revolution.

"Well, as I said Vasily was inclined to the poetic, no more so than his explanation for the seduction of a young man whom he described as a flower blossoming and opening its petals to let the honey bee taste the sweet nectar. I leave you to devine what he was referring to."

Aleksander avoided Daniil's eyes, feeling himself blush, embarrassed by his own conservative nature, something imposed by his education and at odds with his emotions.

"So I stayed alone with Vasily on his return at the end of the summer, with the blessing of my father who thought the experience would broaden my outlook. To satisfy your curiosity, as the man himself expressed it, Vasily not my father, the fruit had ripened on the branch, it was at its sweetest, ripe, and ready for the plucking."

Feliks Vanya was there when Novel received his estate manager, but he didn't stay long. The manager was not a man Feliks had any time for, he looked mean and dishonest, the kind of person who would always say whatever he thought you wished to hear. The estate farm was run very badly, Novel's solution was to invest more money to make things work, but he had no more, he had practically run out of funds. Feliks had helped his brother before, on numerous occasions, as Aleksander had said, he was at heart a good man. Still, he could not abide listening to these domestic problems, it made him depressed. Novel Vanya for all his effort and willingness, did not have the ability to correct matters, although he was practical enough, he got cheated. Feliks would have once more offered money to help, but at that moment he had none.

He left the other two men and walked down the hall to the back of the house. Before entering he knocked on the door.

It was Natasha's voice he heard, "Who is there? Come in."

"It's me." Feliks opened the door.

Natasha got up and handed the baby to the maid.

"I didn't mean to disturb you and the child, I came to ask that you add some green tea to the list of provisions you will send for."

"Of course, how much would you like?"

"Oh, I suppose about half a pound." Feliks looked around the living quarters, it was the first he had ever stepped foot here. "Your accommodation looks comfortably and tastefully decorated.

"Thank you, and yes it is quite comfortable." Natasha wondered if he had come to see her only about tea, if so he would leave she thought, but he did not.

"Why did you give the boy to your maid?" Feliks asked. "I love children, may I see him?"

Natasha was now a little embarrassed. She called for the girl to bring the infant. "Oh, wait," she suddenly thought, "we must put some clothes on him."

"That does not matter," Feliks gave a hint of a smile, but Natasha insisted and so after a little time fussing about, Matvey was brought back dressed in a light blue and white cotton gown. Whilst waiting Feliks had looked around the room, examining the fixtures and noting the not unpleasant scent of jasmine.

"A beautiful little boy," Feliks commented, when Natasha presented him.

"This is your uncle," she said, and Matvey gurgled, wriggling in her arms.

"He looks like my brother." Feliks touched the baby's tiny hand with his finger.

Of course, he looks like Novel, Natasha thought, but said nothing.

"How old is he?"

"He'll soon be eight months."

"He's a splendid little chap," Feliks said, he took back his finger and left.

"Ah, Feliks, I wondered where you went." Novel Vanya entered as his brother was leaving. Feliks smiled, nodded, but did not stop.

"Did he just come there like that?" Novel asked Natasha.

"He wanted me to order some green tea."

"Oh, I see." Novel went over to look at the baby, "Good morning baby," he smiled.

It was all of three years ago when Novel Vanya had first laid eyes on Natasha, a chance encounter at the inn where he had taken a room and where Natasha's mother was the house maid, cleaner, and general help. At the time he had need of just such a person, and finding his room at the inn clean and the place well looked after, he got talking to Boleslava Sokoloa. He found the old lady, she was fifty-five, easy to talk to and with an agreeable character. She told him that she was thinking of leaving the inn because she was not happy with how she and her daughter were treated.

"You have a daughter?" Novel Vanya had asked a little surprised because he had seen no one else during his stay at the inn.

"Yes, Natasha, she is just seventeen and has been away visiting her aunt.

Boleslava's sister was not well and had no other family to help. As they were talking Novel Vanya discovered that the sister lived much closer to his estate at Ryavda than to the inn. The next day Natasha had returned and Novel made her acquaintance. She was very shy and did not say more than a few words, but over the week he was at the inn she became more used to him. When Novel proposed mother and daughter come to work at his estate, that he would provide accommodation, Boleslava did not hesitate in accepting. Over the following year Novel became attached to the young Natasha, who for her part gradually relaxed more in his company. Events took a turn for the worst when Boleslava's sister died, she had contracted an infection which never got better, and being some ten years older than Boleslava she simply had not the strength to fight the disease and passed away. Then, only a few months later Boleslava herself fell seriously ill and despite Novel trying his best to help, she too, in turn, passed away. Tragic as these events were they threw Novel and Natasha together and their relationship grew.

Feliks Vanya Nikolaev lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, a feeling almost of desperation engulfed him. Eventually he got up, but only to pace about the room. It was a very nice room, decorated with elegant light grey wallpaper with a small repeating motif, the same motif was picked up by the heavy drapes at the window. He sat at his writing desk, but was unable to concentrate on anything. He got up and once more lay on his bed, a strange expression on his face.